We landed right at sunset, and honestly, it may have been the most beautiful landing I’ve ever experienced. The sky was painted in dramatic reds, soft pinks, and glowing oranges, like Miami was welcoming us personally and saying, “Alright, now we can begin.” Even jet lag paused for a second to admire the view.
Immigration? Smooth. Rental car? Acquired. Thirty minutes later, we were standing in front of our accommodation, so ready to relax. Armed with instructions and confidence, I approached the door, entered the code… and nothing happened. Again. Nothing.
What followed was an impressively long exchange of messages with the owner. He insisted the code was correct. I insisted the door remained very much closed. Eventually, reality won. We gave up, admitted defeat, and booked another hotel.
And just like that, everything clicked into place.
The new hotel was in South Beach, where things tend to work the way they should. The check-in was effortless, and our room greeted us with an absolutely stunning view of both the ocean and the city. Lights twinkling, waves rolling in, stress leaving our bodies.
Hunger soon took over, so we wandered into a Cuban restaurant nearby. There, our waiter decided - quite quickly - that we were his new best friends. Entirely motivated by tips, of course, but still very convincing. Under his passionate guidance, we ordered what he swore were the best dishes on the menu and washed them down with beer from his hometown. He spoke about it with such fake pride that we would’ve ordered it even if it tasted like regret. Thankfully, it didn’t.
Although mediocre food, but with full stomachs, a perfect view, and the kind of tiredness that only travel can give you, we were back in hotel and fell asleep.
Kommentaare ei ole:
Postita kommentaar